


Tranquility.

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Gen, i was encouraged to post it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-11 11:59:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/798512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I got a drabble prompt on my Kíli roleplay tumblr account for a Vampire AU where (modern) Kíli is out for Fíli's blood. So I did a thing. </p><p>For the sake of modernity, Kíli will be referred to as Kieran, and Fíli doesn't have a name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tranquility.

Kieran had noticed him at 8:24 PM on a Friday evening in the Starbucks on the corner of Eighth and Broadway, sitting at the third table to the right right of the counter. Kieran himself had been seated at the fourth, a book in hand and five eighths finished cup of coffee sitting two inches from where his right hand rested. The man had been wearing a plaid shirt with the top two buttons left undone, so that at the top of the neckline, the fabric was spaced four and a half inches; black jeans with one stain on them, three inches from the left inseam, thirteen and a third inches from the waist line; black converse with multiple scuff marks that Kieran memorized in an instant. 

His face wasn’t perfect. One eye was higher than the other, and his jaw was slightly different on one side. But Kieran had never wanted anyone as badly in his fifty years of existing than he had the man who sat next to him. Kieran examined him in his peripheral vision: the angle that his eyelids fell to as he scanned through his phone, the way that four strands of hair were sticking up at above the rest of his tawny locks, the way his ear twitched slightly as his eyes narrowed. Kieran flipped the page of his book, and reached for his coffee. The man took little notice of him. Kieran bumped his cup with the back of his hand, nearly knocking it over, and he dropped his book in an order to save the mug from falling. He caught it, and when his eyes turned to the man, the man had his book in hand with a lopsided grin in place. Kieran took the book back with a muttered, ‘thanks,’ and the man said something monosyllabic that Kieran remembered too well. 

Kieran followed him home. He stayed in the shadows, body kissing the sides of brick buildings as he stayed ten steps behind the man, darting between bodies to keep his anonymity, head down and hands in his pockets. He got as far as the apartment building before he stopped, examining it from the outside, trying to think of how to enter and find the man. Every fibre of his being screamed that he needed to be inside, that he had to find whoever this man was and drink him dry, that he needed his hands on his flesh, and his lips against his, then his teeth would pierce flesh and he would relish in what was crimson and his, all his.

At 11:45, he climbed the fire escape to the seventh floor, and walked through the hallway, eyes closed, hands outstretched to keep his balance, trying to find the alluring scent that had intoxicated his mind three hours and twenty-two minutes previously. The sixth floor brought him closer, the fifth closer still, and it was on the fourth floor that his eyes snapped open as the pheromones wafted towards him invitingly. 

He knocked four times on the door in the space of 2.143 seconds, and the man looked confused as he pulled back the door. “Aren’t you the guy from the-” The door was slammed closed behind Kieran as he pushed his way in. The look of alarm on the man’s face alerted Kieran before the man cried out, and his hand was over his mouth with surprising force. 

“I’m going to kill you,” Kieran said calmly, “but if you cry out, then I won’t be very nice about it.” Kieran kept his hand in place for a while, the other hand grabbing the front of the man’s plaid shirt as he dragged him into the living space. Kieran counted three windows and four doorways, one couch with three designated seats, a coffee table, one chair, and a television. It was the coffee table that Kieran threw the man down onto, his blood pumping faster as the man cried out, his head cracking against the surface of the seventy-two inches by eighteen-inches faux-mahogany surface. 

Kieran’s tongue ran over his teeth and he took a few steps towards the man, eyes dark, pupils dilated, fingers curled slightly. The man looked up at him pleadingly, one hand moving to push himself up, the other extending as if he could stop Kieran from moving closer. “Please, this is a mistake, I don’t know you, I haven’t done anything, if I have, tell me, I’ll do whatever you want, just let me live-“ 

Kieran extended his hand and took the man’s wrist with surprising tenderness, long fingers wrapping around the slightly darker skin, two fingers stopping to feel the the veins on the most delicate patch of skin, knowing that with one movement his teeth could be piercing that patch, that the illicit nectar could be in his mouth - but that was too easy. Kieran’s hand slid down his arm, and he felt the man shudder beneath him - it brought a smile to his lips. 

“You haven’t done anything,” Kieran said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re perfect.” Kieran moved so he was standing next to the man’s waist, and he tilted his head 23 degrees to the right as he gazed down at him with eyes full of terrifying tenderness. He slowly got down to his knees, his hand moving to push down the man’s chest with surprising strength for so little force. 

His hand then began to unbutton further down the man’s shirt, and the man let out the most beautiful, melodic whimper that Kieran decided he had ever heard in his life. A small smile turned up the corners of his lips, and his other hand stroked along the man’s jaw line. “It’s alright,” Kieran cooed, rising to his feet. “Please stay calm.” Kieran extended his hand, and the man hesitated, then took it, cautiously pulling himself to his feet. Before he could bolt to the door, Kieran’s hand grabbed his waist and pulled the man close to him. “I said try to stay calm.” He ran the backs of his fingers along the man’s cheekbones; their delicacy was startling, in truth. 

“You’re sick,” the man’s voice shook, just as his entire did, trembling like a plucked string. Kieran’s smile grew, and he shook his head, almost feeling as if he could laugh. 

“I’m really not.” Kieran ducked his head and pressed his lips to the man’s neck, his soft, sensitive flesh barely brushing the man’s thin skin. The man let out a muffled cry, and Kieran chuckled, his tongue darting out to cover the flesh he had just touched. His taste was intoxicating, and just a hint of what Kieran knew was to come. He had been so good for so long, it was 11:56 and he had waited an extra eleven minutes, he deserved this, he needed this, he wanted this. 

With no more noise than an inhalation, Kieran’s fangs extended and he bit down on the throbbing artery in the man’s neck. He heard the man cry out, but the sound was muffled by the perfect ringing that sounded through his mind as tranquility flowed onto his tongue and through his mind and body. 

He had never known ecstasy like it. 

And in three minutes and 12.34 seconds, the man lay lifeless, carefully positioned on the coffee table with his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, and Kieran couldn’t help but feel a sadness begin through his senses at the thought that he would never taste such divinity again. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the man’s lower lip, which was still warm, though pale as the starched carpet below. 

“Thank you.” Kieran said with a gentle smile, rising to his feet.

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm. Idk. I just kinda did the thing.   
> Feedback would be awesome??


End file.
